High-Value Targets

This is hardly AM fare–waking up is hard enough these days without downing a shot of awful news–but I, like a lot of people, have been sort of obsessively distressed about the news that CBS correspondent Lara Logan “suffered a brutal and sustained sexual assault and beating”, as CBS reported, in Tahrir Square last Friday.

It seems best to leave so much about Logan and this attack undiscussed. There’s not a lot to add to the fine job Mary Elizabeth Williams did at Salon pointing out how quickly the blame-the-victim machine kicked in. I think it’s brave of Logan to have CBS report that this happened at all (assuming the choice was theirs to make; it’s always possible they had to release the statement to preempt someone else’s reporting). Logan has had a carefully balanced career between the sort of tough androgyny that women in combat zones often seem to project and her camera-ready beauty, which must be both a reporting asset and obstacle. By exposing this crime, she loses control of that hard-won balance to some degree. Her vulnerability becomes the story in a way that it hasn’t before (though there have been typically sexist “investigations” into her love life, which I won’t link to, in the past). I wonder–though I have no idea–if she feels her personal privacy is less important than the reminder that this kind of violence still happens, even to women who happen to be tough war correspondents. Either way, I think it’s courageous, and I hope that the outrage boiling everywhere at this can be even a little transformative.

Logan’s ordeal is the worst that’s been reported, but she’s not been alone. These crimes also happen in the States, of course, but Egypt does have some deep and specific problems with sexual harassment. I heard secondhand from the husband of one female CNN producer that when the Tahrir crowd was in a bad mood, they tried to beat her up; when they were in a good mood they just groped her. I haven’t heard anything specific about the experiences of the women who have been covering Egypt for Time–Vivienne Walt and Abigail Hauslohner (who lives in Cairo fulltime)–but I can imagine that the great work they’ve been doing has come with added dangers just because of their gender.

But this has been a rough fortnight for people who care about journalism in general. You saw the intent to attack journalists throughout the events in Egypt, a threat that I can’t help but see as part of a continuum of increasing risks to reporters everywhere. In part, it’s because the west is waging a global war against natural propagandists who see journalists as part of the battlefield. That explains what happened to Danny Pearl, a noncombatant killed by combatants. But even civilians, it seems, have taken to seeing journalists as responsible for whatever ails them. In Egypt, it seems, if the world wasn’t hustling Mubarak out quickly enough, it was the media’s fault. If it was hustling Mubarak out too quickly, that was also the media’s fault.

Egypt does have a sorry history of state-run media, but it’s fascinating how much that same media blame-game is en vogue in the United States. Here you have an entire political movement, the Tea Party, dedicated now to the notion that the press not only actively misunderstands them, but is in dark and cynical alliance with the enemies of America. One of my first Tea Party events featured a retiree whom I’d just met warning me not to “write anything stupid,” an aside that was as casual as it was presumptuous. It’s not much better on the left: if you listened only to the shouty media critic Glenn Greenwald, you’d imagine that most of what is wrong with this country can be hung on the lapdog media.

Critics on both sides have their moments of truth. The right is correct that the media is largely–and increasingly–an east coast, big city creation, and there are cultural biases that come with that. The left is correct that a certain corrosive coziness has defined the media’s relationship to power. All sides are diminished when partisan hacks and ambush artists pose as journalists. But both extremes vastly overestimate the influence that journalists and pundits have. Not even the mighty AC360 builds empires or tears them down. Neither, by the way, does the edu-clown Glenn Beck. Overstating the power of the media lays the groundwork for the long, permanent attack they’ve been under.

I say this, of course, out of self-interest. I travel and report and I have an interest in my own safety and the ability to do my job without fear. But the ability for journalists to report safely is important. I’ve been detained overseas (though in much less threatening circumstances). I’ve been at massive pro-Kremlin rallies where the foreign media was singled out for ridicule and scorn. But the United States is still a place where I can travel to almost any neighborhood, walk into almost any gathering, and not fear for my safety as a journalist. I am extremely thankful that even people who know from my reporting that I don’t agree with them on certain issues continue to treat me with civility. I won’t always get access, I won’t necessarily get bearhugs. But I won’t have to take a beating, or be kidnapped or killed.

Just realize that this isn’t true in a lot of the world. And it won’t be true here either in the future if we keep inflating and demonizing the media. Let us work. Fight what we say, if you have cause, but not who we are. Best wishes to Lara for a whole recovery.

Let Us Now Praise Hippo Dads

Over at The Morning News, a former DadWagon subsidiary recently splintered off in a multibillion-dollar IPO, Marco Kaye identifies himself as a new beast in the parenthood menagerie: the Hippo Father, native to Long Island:

A lot of fathers in other states must wonder how Long Island dads raise such badass sons. They wonder why our boys are all about football, ice hockey, and girls, what it’s like at home, and if they can do it too. I’m here to tell you that even if you’ve only been to Fire Island or the Hamptons—though it’s likely you have already traded in your sack and have larger issues to contend with—you can still raise your kids the Long Island way. Here are some things my sons, Jake and Colin, were never allowed to do:

  • Attend a sleepover without chicks being there, too.
  • Play tennis, golf, track, swimming, or any other sport meant for girls and old people.
  • Listen to that crotch-grabbing circus music popular with all the other kids.
  • Not be the no. 1 student in gym.
  • Paint or draw.
  • Play any video game other than anything in the Call of Duty or Halo series.
  • Not play Call of Duty or Halo.

Unfortunately, it’s satire, not reality. But it’s funny. So go read it.

Happy International Grover Appreciation Day!

I'm too lazy to rotate him clockwise.

As you probably already know, today, February 15, is International Grover Appreciation Day. We celebrated it last year, and are doing so again this year.

But perhaps you do not know the lovable, furry monster who is so helpful to his friends on Sesame Street. Is that true? Oh no! Well, then, we must tell you all about him!

Do you see that handsome fellow just to the right? That is Grover, dressed up as his favorite alter ego, Super Grover, a marvelous flying hero who comes to the rescue of his fellow Muppets. He may have trouble landing, but his crashes are legendary.

Grover has many jobs. He works often as a waiter and a salesman, both of which pay under the table, as he illegally immigrated to Sesame Street from Canada (which explains his funny manner of speech). In a bitterly ironic twist, Grover even managed to get himself a gig as Marshal Grover, patrolling the border on a horse named Fred in search of illegals like himself. Do not say that Grover is not sneaky!

And now, without further ado, Grover:

That’s Mr. Jackson if You’re Nasty

So you have to wade through a bit of this interview-preview, the parts where Piers is sort of doughy and weird and Janet is busty and weird, but it’s worth it for another small reveal of the terrifying (and yet, in some ways, wildly successful) parenting style of Joe Jackson.

I’m gonna try this on my kids, and it’s really gonna fuck them up. Especially because my name isn’t Joseph.